


an honor and a privilege (Wynonna Earp, 4x04)

by Zofiecfield



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Feelings, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: It would have been a privilege to be loved by her forever.
Relationships: Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	an honor and a privilege (Wynonna Earp, 4x04)

As has become her custom over many restless nights, she slips out of bed silently. She checks the traps, savoring the bite of the cold, glad for a different reason to be awake. Inside, she sheds her layers, warms the tea, and settles by the fire. Pen to paper, for the hundredth time.  
_  
Waves,_

_It is a privilege to love you and an honor to be loved by you.  
An honor to be trusted, an honor to be asked for forever.  
A privilege to say yes._

_yes._

_Yours, now and always,  
Nicole_  


_  
_

It is a privilege to love Waverly Earp. No, it _was_ a privilege to love her. Past tense. A privilege she had earned. A privilege she had lost. 

Lover, wife, someday mother. 

They built a bridge, side by side, a labor of love to carry them to that future. She craves it, feels it like a shadow, always present, always apart, never quite hers for the keeping. They built a bridge in the light, but she made deals in the darkness that wouldn't end, utterly devoid of hope, promises that sickened her then and bring to her knees begging now. She is desperate to shed what she has done, desperate to peel it off, layers of skin that writhe. Acid in her stomach, on her teeth, corroding the metal. Every step now, she can hear the flakes of rust as they come away beneath her and plummet. If they continue to walk, hand in hand, across this bridge, it is only a matter of time. The bridge will crumble and she deserves the fall, she knows, but hand in hand, she won't fall alone. She can't forgive herself the risk.

Lover, wife, someday mother. 

She could break Waverly's heart in one fell swoop, tell her the truth about what she's done, tell her what is coming. She could let the future take its new shape, ugly and so much dimmer than it had been, barely masked as it is now. But, her own heart is already so heavy, battered and homesick for a time that was and a time that was going to be. Her own can't bear to watch another's heart shatter. 

So she breaks it slowly, fractures it with each hesitation, with each answer she avoids. Worse this way, surely, more painful now and in the long run, and harder to forgive. Worse, surely, but it buys her time. She digs in her heels and begs for enough friction, enough strength to halt what she set in motion, to turn back and return to her course. Heels worn so thin already from the miles walked alone, body so tired from the weight born, heart already resigned. 

To be loved by Waverly Earp forever would have been an honor and a privilege.

She folds the note into neat quarters. Runs her nail over each seam, over and over until the paper gives way. Leans forward and feeds it to the flame. 

Steps on the stairs now. Hand brushing across her shoulders, lips to her neck. _Come back to bed._

She leans into the touch, takes the hand, follows her upstairs. To do this every night, to walk hand in hand into peaceful darkness, heaven she had dreamed of, heaven she had nearly held. 

She blinks back the regret, the longing for this moment in another time. Breathes deeply and tries to be here, to be present. Tries, for one more moment, to forget.


End file.
